Broken
by sesamisen
Summary: She's broken, lost and frightened. He's a monster. How did they end up like this ? This is a story about healing. Gaara x OC.
1. CHAPTER1-BOUND

**This is a new version of my old, almost abandoned, story 'Monsters within'. Time passed so quickly and it seemed like forever since I've first written the first chapter. When I decided to reread it, I was left speechless and disgusted. The next chapters followed and slowly I noticed how my writing has improved since the first 3 or 4 chapters. Th** **e problem was with the story and also with the characters of course. While Reika (my own character) was exactly how I imagined her to be, Gaara was a lot out of character. Everything seemed to develop too fast, and there were many things that made no sense at all. I could have re-edit all the chapters and leave the story how it was, but my first readers would have been almost obliged to reread the story and understand all the changes I've made - it seems wrong, if you ask me. So I decided to rewrite everything , now that I have free time. And hopefully, everything will turn out better than before.**

 **This story is faithful to the canon - only a few things are a bit different, but not too much. Reika is my own character and she is not a mary-sue ! I'm trying to give her flaws and traits as well, and I created her according to what I think Gaara would need .**

 **One thing you should keep in my mind while reading this story : I changed their ages. While in Naruto they were 12-13, and then grew to 15-16, I decided to add a plus of 3 years to that. So, according to mathematics, that will bring us to the ages of 15-16 in Naruto and later on to 18-19. Hopefully you will not mind the changes.**

 **Enjoy and feel free to review, criticize or close the tab if there's anything bothering you . I apologize in advance for any grammar errors you may encounter and for bad use of English.**

 **This story will be eventually rated M for : non-consensual adult themes, language, gore, graphics and consensual adult themes ; the chapters will be marked with a warning.**

 **Listen to : Aurora - Runaway.**

 **Kind regards,**

 **Sesamisen.**

 **I obviously do not own NARUTO. If I did, Gaara would be the main character.**

* * *

CHAPTER 1

 **BOUND**

How can the Sun love the Moon so much, that he dies everyday just to let her shine in the dark night? It's hard to understand the unselfish desire to break your own self, to bury yourself in the dusty ground, only so the one you love can raise and shine more beautifully than he ever could have. Better said, it's impossible.

I often ask myself : how do I know it is love that makes you sacrifice for your other half, searching for his or her happiness? Love is a common word. Everyone speaks it, everyone does it.. but do they really know what it is ?

How bad do you have to hurt yourself in order to not care anymore about the uncontrollably pain inside your chest and care instead about everything you have to give, and who you'd like to receive it?

People are selfish, people are only for themselves. But how can one person be stronger than many ? Loneliness it's not the perfect technique to win a war, but fighting is.

Loses, death, pain.. I chose to fight them all.

And as the rain passed, I let the beautiful rainbow guide me to a whole new world, and I threw myself ahead, without wondering, into the arms of the one thing I had always believed in : hope. And as I danced with the devil, trying to deceive him from my intentions, I found my way back home, and there I found the one thing I've missed all along : someone to fight for. But firstly…

* * *

My parents chose to call me Reika which stands for _lovely petal_ , very appropriate from my father's point of view, for he had always considered my mother and I the two flowers he would never pick up from the dusty ground, considering them forbidden. He said that he would rather watch and help them grow more beautiful with each year that passes by instead of just admiring them in a jar for a few days.

His name was Masato Daisuke and my mother's name was Keiko. Imagine a shoulder length hair, red by color , accentuating the perfect pale skin compared to the normal tan skin belonging to most of Suna's villagers; Sun never seemed to be attracted to our features. Tho' I completely inherited my mother's looks, one thing that differed between the two of us was the color of our eyes. You'd think that once I took after my mom, my eyes would also be hers to begin with. But I have to disagree. Compared to all our relatives, from what my mother had told me, strangely, only my eyes were green, when theirs were all red. But why, or how, I didn't know, and my mother never had bothered to explain me, even though I knew she had an answer. Truth be told, for my childish way of thinking, my green eyes were a mystery, something I could not comprehend and something that I desired to change.

I loved my parents how much a child can ever love. I slightly remember their traits, voices, and sometimes I think that most of my memoirs come from the imagination of a delusional child, rather than an accurate recollection. But one of the few memories I'm certain about is how I used to wait days in a row for their return from missions assigned by the Lord Kazekage, the most respected man in Sunagakure. They were frequently gone from home, and I would often find myself waiting for them by the window, ready to catch any glimpse of their arrival. My grandmother took care of me those times, and I can still remember her getting angry at me for staying up late. In my first years of life, all this became a routine, till a terrifying event broke the chain and it became little pieces on the ground, infinite pieces by number, impossible for me to pick up and bind again.

To this day, I remember that evening so well as if it happened yesterday, and my heart keeps sinking everytime I choose to recall it, be it only for telling someone or an usual nightmare.

I remember it being around twilight, and as I sat by the sill, I watched the sky burn in purplish tones, as the final rays of sun touched the roofs and burned the sand. _It's going to be a real storm soon, mom, dad, so hurry up home._ I thought. Usually, there were a lot of sandstorms in Sunagakure, and every shinobi was prepared to encounter one, but fear always stroke me when I knew my parents away . I should have trusted their skills more at the time, and often I reproach myself for not thinking higher of them, especially my dad. I loved my mother much more than I loved my father, and I think it showed somehow, because he was always more distant, not only regarding me, but also the rest of the family. He would rarely talk to my grandmother, and when he did, he was extremely formal and careful not to be too disrespectful. And as a child, I grew closer to the people that showed me love and were open to me. So every time I looked out the window, I always tried to spot the well-known red tint of hair covered by a hood, even in the sandstorms. I knew that no matter what, my father would follow.

That evening the storm was too powerful and I couldn't even see the alley outside. All I could see was sand, hitting the window, covering the ground, and the wind blowing forcefully, ripping everything in its path.

"Reika, please do me a favor and go to your bed. Your parent are most likely not to return today. And if they do, they will definitely be very upset to see you awake at this time", I heard my grandma's voice from behind me. She was tired, maybe looking for some sleep, but couldn't as long as I wasn't in my bed. "Don't upset me , Reika. I will tell your parents."

I sighed. "Fine, grams. I will, I will. But can I please wait for a few more minutes? I'm sure they are meant to return today." She shook her head, but let me be. I smiled at her . "Thank you, grandma!". But even those minutes passed and they were not back. I nervously exhaled counting the steps to my room as grandma followed me from behind, wanting to make sure I undeniably threw myself under the covers and left this place for a dream one. And I did.

When the lights turned off, I closed my eyes and found myself fall into a deep sleep.

I opened my eyes to a dark place, without being able to see anything. My back hurt from the rough wooden floor and coldness surrounded me. I was no longer in my comfortable bed. My first instinct was to panic, and breathing, I found the air humid, smelling like earth, and I hurt my knees in a failed attempt to raise myself. I was blocked in a coffin, or that's how it felt like. I was underground and could not leave the place by any means. Fear hit me like a wave, and breathing became hard, as I lived a panic attack. My heart was rapidly beating, as if it tried to break free from my chest, and I screamed from the bottom of my lungs; I screamed for my life. But my voice could not be heard and my throat ached, as if it had been burned. I was left speechless , deep into the cold ground to die. And realization hit me the moment I woke up in my bed. It was not my nightmare, but my mother's.

I sat up in my bed, my clothes and hair soaked in sweat and my breathing heavy. It took me a few seconds to run along the hall, down the stairs, and right into the living where I found my father standing on his feet in front of the sofa, his head bowed, eyes closed, and my grandmother was on the couch, head in her hands, whole body trembling, obviously crying. And I knew. As I sat in the doorway, watching her head shake and body tremble, I knew she was gone. My feet ran on its own to my father, and my right hand took his sleeve, pulling him down. I remember not being able to see clearly because of the tears that rolled down my cheeks, but for a moment he seemed calm, before falling to his knees on the hard floor and hugging me tight. I punched his shoulders, and I kept on saying "It's true.". He comforted me, slowly patting my tiny back, and keeping me close to him.

Then, I heard him whisper "It's ok.".

* * *

Days passed slowly.. painfully. I didn't care anymore. I found myself wandering the streets in the evenings, without even having asked for permission from my grandmother, not that I think she would have cared. After hearing about mother's death, she closed all doors to her heart, and let no one in. She was always in her room, mostly crying, swearing, damning, asking questions no one could answer her : "Where is she now?" , "Why is she dead?", "Was it meaningless?" etc. But Gods didn't listen, they didn't care, she thought. Her life seemed over once her child was gone.

As for my father, I rarely got the glimpse of him. He still left on missions even though I begged him not to. How could he leave his daughter alone in such a situation after all ? I didn't know. But I judged his actions, and I swore never to forgive him for his choices.

And so, I was left by myself, all day, doing nothing. Children my age started training so they could follow their parent's paths, and I often watched them in groups exercising, playing together, learning about each other, while I was all by myself, running away from an absent father and a broken grandmother. I had no friends, and seeing those kids having fun, envy took roots inside my heart, making me cry at night, wish for things I did nothing to achieve, prayed for a better life, asking back for my mother, when I knew very well that she was never coming back.

I occupied my time by swinging in the park, as my gaze fell on a small group of kids playing with a red small ball. But it was not their first time, I'd noticed them gathering up and enjoying themselves every day, as their laughter filled up the air. I wanted to join and greet them, but my shyness forbid me to, so I kept on swinging by my own, when suddenly I heard footsteps and the other swing moving.

I turned my head to the left and smiled in surprise at the sight of another 5 years old next to me. He had red spiky hair, just like mine, and his eyes watched the ground as his swing moved a little, his arms holding tight an old , cheap teddy bear. I was startled at how sad he seemed, his gaze lost in space, without even acknowledging me. From time to time, he sighed, closing his eyes and holding the bear even more tightly.

I remember so well the moment I decided to step into his life, the moment I chose to change mine and hold my hand out to him. I was shy, I was nervous, but excited. And as I prepared myself to greet him, anxiety stroke me powerfully and painfully. Was he eager to meet someone as well ? Was he excited to have friends? Was he also alone?

And as my hand moved forward to his side, I wondered _Does he also… need someone?_

"Hi." I began, and at the sound of my voice, the chains, the swing, time, everything stopped. His face turned to me, his eyes on my hand. He seemed surprise. I continued "My name is Reika! What's yours?" He looked up and his eyes widened in surprise. I could clearly see how puffy and red they were from all the recent crying, and it broke me a little bit, realizing how I was not the only one sad. He didn't answer me, he didn't hold my hand, even though I kept mine in front of him. "At least you could nod, not just stare!" I bluntly murmured, shaking my head, before letting my hand fall.

I was taken by surprise when his hand suddenly took mine, his tight grip hurting my palm. "I…I am Gaara." He whispered without looking at me. And I was relieved that he wanted, just like me, to meet someone.

I giggled before making my first observation . "I like your hair." He looked up, his green eyes piercing through mine, then shifting to my own red hair. "We look so much alike."

"Why are you talking to me?" his voice was sharp, but I could sense the fear hidden behind the coldness. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Are you someone important? " He shook his head, strings of hair gently caressing his pale cheeks as he started swinging again.

"People are scared of me." I jumped from my place and moved in front of him, and if he hadn't stopped that moment, I would have gotten hit by the wooden sit. "What are you doing?"

"Why would I be scared? You didn't hurt me, did you?"

I heard him whisper "I think I will."

"Do you want to?" His face moved to the side, as a little tint of pink painted his cheeks. I watched his mouth open several times, in an attempt to speak, but immediately shut it . He was obviously contradicting himself unaware of what was best to say or do. But I wanted to assure him I was not scared of him so he would feel comfortable enough around me to be honest . I gently patted his shoulder, and at my touch he moved to the side, afraid. A few more moments, and he answered me.

"Sometimes."

* * *

It is true what people say about time : it flies quicker when you are enjoying it, rather than when you are constantly waiting for it to pass. I learned that as I developed a friendship with this kid, Gaara. The first day we met ended faster than I would have imagined. I was startled by all the answers he gave me : the reasons why he was upset, how he had no friends, how people were scared of him, I felt like he was someone that needed help more than anyone.

What touched me the most about his story was that his mother was also dead, buried somewhere under the hot sand, deep into the ground. _She is also cold, trying to breath, hitting the hard wood in a failing attempt to break free from a coffin she doesn't want to be in._ That's what I thought at the time. I couldn't stop imagining his mother in the same place as mine, cold, hurt, hopeless. All I based my thoughts on was the nightmare I had the day I found out about my mother. For I was only a child, a 5 years old, and I couldn't understand death . _What does it mean? Where did they go ?_ For me, it was torture, and I was scared of it. Gaara was also terrified of death and pain in usual, and seeing him suffer like that, made me extremely maternal of him. I tried encouraging him to fight pain and find something worth living for : which in my opinion was finding our trapped mothers and give them back their lives.

Gaara only laughed at my statements, but didn't try to discourage me, which I was grateful for.

We would often spend our time running around the village and then let ourselves fall on the hot sand, and at night watch the sky, counting the stars, asking ourselves questions about them, wondering if our mothers could also see them. It was the only friendship I needed. His smile, his laugh, his everything, made me truly care for him, as much as a child can. While my house was a place I'd begun to hate, being next to him was a new home I was discovering day by day. Someone to understand you, someone to care and make you laugh, can there be another person anyone would rather choose than that ?

My grandmother started recovering, she was making cookies again and from time to time I'd be able to catch a twitch of her lips, forming into a shy smile. But I knew deep down she was still broken, and she couldn't, just couldn't, look at me. My face resembled my mother's too much, I guess. I was haunting the house, making her suffer just at the sight of me, making me want to hide away, or leave.

My father , as usual, was gone on missions. And no matter how much he tried to assure me that it was his duty to the Kazekage, I couldn't bring myself to believe him.

I always felt as if I didn't belong _home,_ but nothing could possibly change that. Or so I thought. And that's how months went by. Getting more and more distant from home, and closer to a certain someone.

Everything started breaking the moment everyone, like literally everyone, in the village went crazy. I was by the swings waiting for Gaara as I did every single day for months. The silent night ended when a child's scream was heard from what seemed somewhere up, echoing between the tall sand walls, giving me shivers all the way down my spine. Then everything went out of control. Shinobi were everywhere, people were told to get back inside and I was confused. Even though parents were coming for their children, I just kept on waiting, because I knew no one would be coming for me, except for Gaara. No matter how much I tried to see through the crowds, he wasn't anywhere to be seen, and all the noise was astonishingly frightening. _There must be something to be scared of, right?_

Right when I prepared myself to get going, I saw two shinobi, a few feet away talking to each other, panic noticeable in their voices .

The taller one said "Is he again?" The other one nodded, looking to his sides, prepared at any moment to defend himself, fear written all over his features. "What are the Kazekage's orders? Are we supposed to find him? " _Who is… he?_

"No, he knows that is a suicidal mission." The first one to talk let a sigh of relief escape his lips as his body relaxed. Looking around, he noticed me.

"You!" I was startled at the shout and before I could even breath, I was being questioned and dragged away from the open space.

"Wait - " I began, struggling to free myself from his tight grip of my wrist. "There is someone I need to find –"

"It's pointless to try and find someone in this scrimmage, child. Show us the way to your home." He paused waiting.

"It is not ! He will be there !" I was pushing his hand away from mine as I backed away from him. "I can't let him down."

"Who is this kid ? Yuka, you should wait for the other one , he might be in danger once he gets here." The other man nodded rapidly and left, most likely heading off towards the playground where they found me to begin with.

"Gaara could be in danger?" I frankly questioned the man in front of me. His head turned in a second to face me, his eyes wide open as shock painted his features. He kneeled in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders and shaking me painfully. I was trying to free my body from his rough hands, but with no luck.

"Is that _child_ the one you were supposed to meet ? Is he going to head this way? " It took me a moment to realize how frightened this man was at the mere mention of Gaara's name. Remembering my friend's words, I soon found myself wondering if they were scared of him, if that kid's scream had anything to do with Gaara and if he really was in danger. I rapidly shook my head, lowering my gaze in an attempt to hide the truth from the horrified shinobi in front of me. "He is, isn't he ? " I kept shaking my head, as tears formed at the corners of my eyes. "Oh, Kami." He stood up, wandering the surroundings with his gaze, before taking my hand again, more brutally than the former time.

Before I could try and stop him, another scream made itself heard and broke through the noisy crowds around us, silencing them all. The man's grip tightened around my wrist. I didn't know what to think, what to do or how to do anything. I was a child and all I felt like doing was find my best friend and go play with him. I didn't care who screamed, I didn't care who scared everyone else. I was not scared by it. Little did I know at the time that the moment I bit the strong hand that hold me, I let go of a defender and ran towards a murderer.


	2. CHAPTER2-HIDDEN

CHAPTER 2

 **HIDDEN**

I was running, the wind blowing into my tear stained face, sand sticking to my sweaty forehead, searching for a certain red haired boy in the agitated crowd . People were running, clumsily bursting into each other in an attempt to reach their homes, afraid of the heartbreaking screams that stroke through the night. Shinobi were desperately making their way up the roofs, looking, searching, but I could see their legs trembling as they waited for orders.

I ran into scared mothers pushing me away as they made space for their kids and many others looked at me afraid, showing me to follow them. But I had no one to run to the opposite direction. My grandmother was broken beyond repair, my father was constantly missing from home. All I had was waiting for me somewhere, I was sure of it. _He might be in danger._ I couldn't help him if he was indeed in danger. All I could possibly do, all any child could do, was be there, watch in horror and squeeze his hand. And I wanted to be there.

But he was nowhere to be found, no matter how much I tried catching a glimpse of him, his red hair remained invisible to my eyes, to my discontent . A burning sensation flooded my chest the moment I realized I had no idea as to where he was. Slowly after I left, I felt a hand on my shoulder, forcefully grabbing me from behind and taking me away. It was the same shinobi that desperately tried to protect me.

"Tell me your father's name so I can get you home!" I shook my head and tried to move away. "Fast, kid ! It's dangerous out here."

Tears formed in my eyes as I whispered. "I can't leave him alone." Always alone… _He has always been alone._

"Are you talking about Gaara-sama ? Because I can assure you, he is definitely not alone right now." His voice sounded irritated, as if he couldn't understand how someone was even able to be concerned about this _Gaara-sama._

"A-are you s-sure ? " I stuttered watching him closely. He nodded shortly and waited. " Masato Daisuke. " He raised an eyebrow, then he nodded once more taking me _home_.

* * *

Hours passed and sleep wouldn't take me on its deceitful paths no matter how hard I'd tried. The once comfortable bed felt now stiff under my small body, and I couldn't warm myself under the wool sheets in the cold night. In other words I was not prepared to fall asleep mostly because I wasn't tired enough and I was too worried to keep my mind blank. Ironically, outside was a chill, calm night, despite the previous events that had taken place . Everyone managed to get home, I supposed. And shinobi must have taken care of the danger since nothing could be heard even with the window that I had left open that night.

After moving from one side to the other for an unknown number of times, I decided that keeping my eyes closed and my body unmoved was the best way to fall asleep. But it didn't last long as I'd heard footsteps on the floor, making me practically jump out of bed trying to grasp anything at all to protect myself against the threat. "Stop right there!" I'd shouted before taking a better look at the culprit. My eyes adjusted easily to the dark and a tint of red made my lips let a relief sigh escape them. "Gaara-kun." I said his name so softly that I doubt he even heard me. He was standing still, his back to the open window, making it impossible for me to see his face clearly especially since his long bangs covered it entirely. I stepped closer. I found myself inches away from him when realization hit me. First it was the smell, the raw scent of blood that levitated around his small frame and flooded my nostrils slowly and painfully. Then it was the view. His all face seemed painted in crimson blood , drops of liquid falling from his soaked hair and those eyes showing how abandoned he had felt, how lost and scared. And how strong he was now, standing before me with his back straight and rigid, even with dry tears on both his cheeks.

Had he been caught in the chaos that took place earlier that evening? Was he a victim of the shouts and screams ? But the shinobi had told me that he was looked after. I frowned my brows and took a step closer, getting a better view of the damages. Except for the fact that he was covered in blood from head to toe, he didn't seem hurt at all. Obviously his legs were fine since he managed to get into my room . His hands also had no cuts and didn't seem broken. The only different thing was the cut on his forehead. I couldn't see too well because of his bangs. I lifted my hand a little too fast and tried to remove the wet strands of hair away from his forehead, but was stopped midway. When his cold hand grasped my wrist, reality hit me hard, and pain flooded my chest as if my heart had been ripped off. He was really there all bloody and hurt. Panic was overwhelming as it settled in my mind and for the first time since having seen him I realized that _this was Gaara_ and something _had happened._

"Oh Kami!" I whispered running for the bathroom and getting a washing cloth. When I brought it to him, it was wet, and I started slowly inching forward, intending to wipe away all of the dirt, blood, tears that stained his beautiful pale skin. But he wouldn't let me touch him. He slapped my hand away several times before I spoke. "You have to let me help you." His eyes narrowed. "I will just clean the blood from your face. It must feel horrible." It looked sticky and undeniably disgusting.

He nodded shortly and let his hands fall back to his sides. I would have asked him to sit on the edge of my bed, but he would have gotten my sheets stained by blood and I didn't wish for my grandmother to see that. _How would I explain something like this ?_

I touched his face gently with the cloth and watched the dirt come off his white skin, leaving him flawless how he had always been. "Thank you." He murmured against my hand, as it found his forehead. I was afraid that I might press too hard on it, since he seemed wounded. Slowly, the blood disappeared into the cotton and the remains looked like a mark of some kind.

"What is it?" In my eyes it formed as a kanji, but, for some unknown reason, couldn't read it. Maybe I wasn't literate enough.

"Love." I nodded firmly and kissed it fast before even realizing what I was doing. "What are you doing?" He asked, taking a few steps away from me.

"It's what my mother would do when I got wounded." I smiled after the affirmation. The truth is at that age I wasn't aware of what it might look like for him since he had never really been cared for after being hurt. For me , it was something my mother always did and it always helped me feel better, as if it was actually healing me.

"Do it again." His request caught me off surprise, but I declined him.

"No!" I shook my head watching him closely. "It won't work then." My mother never let me ask for multiple kisses, saying that the power that a kiss held won't work if requested, but only if given by surprise. His face remained blank for a moment and he lowered his gaze, while I cleaned his arms and neck. "You can never request a kiss, otherwise it will not work the way you want it to. In this case, for taking away the pain." He looked at me in confusion.

"Who told you that?" His voice was rough and demanding.

"My mother." He then sat silently in front of me as I removed the last stains of blood. Drops were still falling from his wet hair, but for a moment, as I looked at it, I couldn't tell the difference between his red hair and the crimson blood. Oh, the irony. If anyone could have needed a better pointer than that that this little boy in front of me had issues concerning blood lust and that all the blood that I thought was his, could have belonged to someone else, it was me. I couldn't figure it out. "Done. You look better." His eyes met mine and for a couple of seconds they betrayed everything Gaara tried so hard to hide : pain , hurt, anger, loneliness . It was all there, more obvious to me than it probably was to him. And, strange to me was what an impact seeing those eyes had on me. My chest was burning with unforgivable flames and tears flooded my eyes, leaving me blind and unconscious to my surroundings. The next thing I know, I was hugging his petit body as tight as I could, getting my shoulder stained in blood from his strands, getting my pajama soaked in the wetness of his blouse, and trying hard to take all of his loneliness and pain away. He remained still in my embrace, sucking all of my emotions into his being, masking the need to hug me back with indifference. But he didn't push me away, I guess he couldn't get himself to do it.

When I stepped away from him was only to kiss his forehead again, on top of the raw mark that would always be there, always a reminder of something that had happened in that chill, _silent_ night. "Does it hurt?"

"This?" He asked pointing at the mark with his trembling fingers. He shook his head slowly, then he moved his index finger to his chest. "This hurts."

"Mine too." His eyes widened in surprise at my response and I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "I don't understand it either." He nodded and tried to smile back, but I saw that he couldn't. The corner of his mouth would go upwards, only to be replaced suddenly by a thick straight line . I think I got him or that's what I believed then : that I understood his grief. Truth be told, I'm sure I couldn't even understand a percent of how much pain he had to deal with.

After looking at each other for a couple of moments, we decided to rest on the floor next to each other. He also knew that the bed was no option, since my grandmother would figure out what a visit I had or would think that I might have got hurt through the night. The floor was not as cold as we expected it to be, so there really was no problem in laying on the hard wood. Our fingers tangled together as we joined our hands. I was tired and wanted to rest, and his eyes were half-closed when everything went black for me and found myself unconscious.

I woke up when his hand moved from mine and his body shifted away. I opened my eyes to see him watching me, his gaze intense . "I did something bad today." He whispered. I didn't move, only listened to his words, mentally analyzing each of them. "You wouldn't forgive me if I told you."

"Did you get into a fight with some kid at the playground?" _Those kids deserved it if he did._

"No. It's something worse." My brows frowned and I waited for him to continue, but noticing my confusion and nervousness his expression changed from a confessing one to blankness. "It's nothing you should worry about though." And he smiled. No, better said, he tried to make me believe that he smiled. Good for him that I was only a child and I didn't know how to distinguish between reality and imagination, between lies and the truth, because he would have never gotten away with _it's nothing._

The next following days were a bit.. out of place, if you ask me. After talking to Gaara that night, I'd fallen asleep before dawn, and when I woke up, he was long gone. No signs of his presence whatsoever could be found in my bedroom and so my grandmother didn't know that he had in some way been there. Not that she knew about our friendship at all. The cloth I used to clean up the blood on his body, I'd hidden in a box under my bed, and I intended to get rid of it as soon as possible. So everything was in control from my perspective.

But things were in a way still weird. Even though my grandma wouldn't exit her chamber, she would still forbid me to leave the house, even in the small garden. "Do me a favor and stay inside today and tomorrow." She said when I passed beside her door in the morning. I only nodded and hoped that she might spend this time with me, but it was wrong of me to think so. She just nodded back slightly and closed the door in my face.

Her cheeks were red and stained with dry tears, her eyes puffy. She had been crying again, even if lately she seemed to do a lot better. But it couldn't be helped, could it ? Losing the one thing that you dedicated your life for, that you've watched grow for years and been proud of . I didn't want to imagine her pain. And even though my chest still ached when memories of mother invaded my mind, I was left tearless. I couldn't cry anymore and I didn't want to either.

I understood my mother's _absence_ as a child could : she was gone some other place where I wasn't able to see her. At least, that's what others tried to make me understand. But I knew better than that : she was trapped. And I wanted to free her with all my might, but I knew it was impossible for so many good reasons.

It hurt me immensely to know that grandma had restless nights, days without eating, smiling or walking at all, but nothing could be done as she was always shutting me down, shoving me away, not even looking at me. When she did look at me, I felt uneasy under her look, and besides pain there was something else that I could not read.

"I am sorry." I whispered against her door and turned around heading to my room. A place where I could find loneliness and emptiness.

* * *

The first day I was imprisoned in my own home went by without any particular event happening and it seemed to me a lost day, as I didn't play at all, and didn't spend time with my grandma either. And, as usual, my father was gone on missions.

The second day , though, caught me by surprise. I was standing on the couch in the living room doing nothing but wait. _Hopefully, grams will come out of her room today and play with me._ Those were my thoughts as I was laying there. The ceiling became of much interest for a couple of minutes and I was suddenly aware of all the cracks that covered it.

Isn't it amazingly terrifying how a small little crack can give birth to others and expand all the way to the opposite wall, making it possible for the whole ceiling to fall and crash my tiny body underneath its cruel and hard stone ?

Suddenly, I remembered of the nightmare that haunted many of my nights , of the exhaustion that followed and the restless sleeps; the tears that once used to keep flowing down my cheeks and soaking my pillow. My mother was stacked in a coffin ; with no possibility of breathing, with her arms and legs pinned to the hard wood. And as my back touched the leather couch, I saw the ceiling approaching my form rapidly, and the walls squeezing at my sides. Then the cracks became wider , as paint fell from their edges gently brushing my cheeks. When the bricks fell and hit me hard , I heard the sound of a door opening and my grandmother ran down the stairs to invite the guest in.

He didn't reply, but sat silently in the doorway, staring at me. He was tall, extremely tall, and from his clothes, I could guess that he was a shinobi. _Most likely looking for dad._

"Reika?" he said towards grams, without turning his face away from mine. His voice was smooth, his tone calm and even though he must have had some serious business with our family, his presence was relaxing and pleasurable.

"Yes, Baki-sama." My grandmother said, nodding her head. "That's her." The man also nodded after hearing her response and then kept looking at me. Slowly I grew inpatient, under his gaze feeling smaller and smaller. His tall form made me feel uncomfortable all of a sudden, like he could read deep into my soul and know every thought that passed my mind. _I don't like this feeling._

I could have sworn that the look he gave me was something I'd never received before. I couldn't quite place it because its meaning was unknown to me, but the way he smiled made my heart flutter. Like he was family, like he had missed me. Like how I wanted my father to smile at me.

"You grew up fast , didn't you?" I nodded and kept my mouth shut. _How would you know anyway?_

"Masato – san, I really need to talk to you. " Then he followed her into her room and never stepped outside that room until dark. What they were doing in there remained unknown to me to these days.


	3. CHAPTER3-TAKEN

POV

"Believe me, Masato-san. I want her gone." His voice sounded more like a pleading rather than a demand, but she knew better. In the dark, small dormitory, unsure of his intentions, she found herself wishing for his most immediate leaving.

"What do you suggest then, if I may ask? She has no one left but me, wherever she'd …" But before she could finish, he sat up from his sit, and as the chair crumbled behind him and fell to the wooden floor, Baki's tall form approached her.

"I suggest you to reconsider your words. She's anything but alone." She remained silent for a moment, her back straight, giving up no sign of intimidation.

"Isn't she? Or are we talking about the _boy_? Because if I would be asked, I'd say that the only one to truly care about her is me. Take her away from me and you take away everything that she has." He shook his head, his body clearly disapproving with her insinuation, but his mind knew better. "You take away everything she's ever known." The pain struck him, but he remained silent for a few moment, pondering between arguing or accepting her words to be true. He knew that they were true.

"I'm telling you. She has to leave." He began walking, stepping loudly on the squeaky floor, but before he touched the doorknob , he turned around "I'll make the arrangements, be ready at any moment."

"Don't you believe you can just come and go as you please ! I have a say in this as well. You can't just take her." His only reaction was a smile.

A couple of weeks later.

RPOV

"Would you please give it back? I want to play ! " I said getting on my tiptoes and reaching for the blue ball. It was several inches above my head, slowly moving in circles controlled by Gaara's sand. "It's not funny at all, Gaara-kun." I stopped my movements and as my hands found their way on my hips I said : "I am not playing with you anymore." I was extremely angry, but didn't mean a word my lips were saying.

"So be it." And before I could truly understand his words, the sand covered the whole ball and in five terrifying seconds crashed it powerfully and threw its remains far away from us. "Now it's gone. Leave." His voice was sharp and his words painful.

"Why would you do that?" My vision blurred as a wave of tears invaded my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall.

"Aren't you leaving already?" He looked at me intensely, his big green eyes penetrating . I couldn't believe him. I was his one and only friend, always standing by his side. And here he was, throwing it all away whenever he felt like it. It didn't matter how many times had I helped him.

If one day he felt irritated, I was the one he was getting back at, being mean and abusive as if I belonged to him and I was meant to accept every decision he ever made, which were far from good. But the worst part was that I let him. I watched him unknowingly using me in all sorts, and I let him.

"Fine!" As rage possessed me, I found myself turning away from him. "Idiot." I whispered under my breath. The moment I stepped away, his sand embraced my ankle tightly catching me by surprise. I soon fell and my face hit the warm earth as sand flooded my mouth and eyes. I was furious as I had never been before and I wanted to punch him hard in the face.

It was not funny. It was not fair. And besides anything it was not right.

"Let me go." I cried as I pulled my leg away. His sand tightened around my ankle, painfully digging into my flesh. "You are hurting me." Fear grew in my chest at the sound of his laugh.

"Good. " _Innocent_ , sweet laugh.

"Is my pain pleasing _you_ ?" The wind blew gently, caressing my skin as sand flooded my eyes and nostrils and glued themselves on my wet cheeks, as tears kept falling. I am yet not sure if my tears were meant for _him_ and his actions or rather for how alone I felt at times, having no one to truly care for me , or truly try to give me happiness. My good mood depended on how others treated me. And at a such age, telling myself that there was no one that cared for me at all, was horrific. Unbelievable. Impossible. But still, extremely and painfully true.

"Sometimes." His voice sounded more like a whisper, losing itself in the wind. "Afterwards my heart feels empty and I am sorry." And he seemed to be sorry then as his sand released my ankle and vanished into the ground. "But most of the time, I feel a hunger that no food can satisfy, and it keeps growing. " So _sincere_. "I don't know what to do." I found myself getting up from the ground and walking to him, my leg hurting with every step, and I couldn't help but stare at his face as I approached him. The innocent laugh vanished. His sparkling green eyes, red and puffy and tearful . And I didn't realize back then how tormented he really was, how deep he sank that he couldn't even see the limit between the dark ocean he was slowly dipping in and the infinity of the blue, light sky. How he was losing the sense of himself and others, and how unconsciously he was failing to understand that I was there, by his side.

 _Lost._ I think that's the word that would describe his past self. He was _lost_ , and I had no means to find him.

But still.. the sun shone over us and bathed us in its light. Sometimes I could see it and acknowledge it. Most of the time though, we were turning our backs on it. And we drowned in darkness.

….

I knew something was out of the ordinary the moment I stepped inside. The lights were all on, and grandma sat in the living, next to other three people : two men and a woman. They were strangers to me, even though one of them looked a little familiar.

"You're finally home." The woman said and next to her laid a bag full of stuff. My grandma looked tired and sad, so extremely sad that it provoked her tiredness, if it makes sense at all.

"Grams, is everything fine?" To my question came no answer, but the rather familiar man sitting next to her sat up from his place and moved towards me. He was so extremely tall back then that made me shiver in fear. I stepped back in an attempt to distance myself, but he soon stood in front of me and bended till his eyes were at my level.

"Your grandmother is fine, Reika. She is happy for you." His voice was calm as he spoke to me, but I couldn't believe his words. A _stranger's_ words.

"What reason does she have to be happy for me?" He sighed before turning around.

"You didn't tell her ? I thought we had a deal." The calmness was gone and the words cut through my heart for I knew they were directed to my beloved grandmother, who was now crying. _How can he talk like that to her ?_

"Don't shout at her !" I spat in his back. And for a moment I felt like the world stopped around me, silence filled the room, and I could only hear a gasp before the man turned to face me once more. I expected him to break me into pieces and then throw me away as if I were trash, but to my sudden surprise his face seemed .. understanding.

"Reika !" My grandma called, voice panicked. The man nodded in my direction.

"It's ok, she might just talk freely. I apologize for my behavior, Masato-san, it was not intended." Grandma whispered a " not a problem " and sighed with her whole body. The trembling stopped.

Everything was happening so quickly that I didn't even have the chance to register the information, they were all whispering around me, even shouting at times, my grandmother would not even dare move, only sob, and _the man_ , that incredibly tall man, was watching my every move, as if I were under examination, like a foreign species only moments ago discovered. Mostly, I tried to ignore his intense stare , but the times that I didn't, he wouldn't care that I had noticed. He just.. _admired_ me.

"She resembles _her_ so much." He'd whisper, just a murmur , barely heard by any of them, but I did. I felt as if it was directed to me, as if he intended me to hear it. And I wondered who had he thought I resembled ?

Darkness took over all village, embraced us with its cold , its chaos and pierced even through my skin deep into my heart as doubt turned into fear. Grams wouldn't look at me and I silently begged her to put me to sleep, to leave that chamber immediately and forget all about it. It wasn't happening, and that terrified me. "What's wrong?" I whispered. Not loud enough for people to hear though. "What's happening?" I shouted then. The _man_ kept looking at me, obviously not surprised by my reaction. He even smiled. But the others were furious.

"How dare you raise your voice at your superiors? Once was enough." The unknown woman said and she approached me. I stepped back, but not quick enough, and the room filled with the sound of her palm hitting my cheek. Pain. I remember the physical pain someone induced on me. And I _hated_ it.

I touched my now burning cheek with the tips of my fingers as if trying to smoothen the sensation. Who was she anyway to hit me ? My mother had not hit me, _ever_. But I didn't dare say anything. I counted on my grams, I was sure she would come in rescue and tell her to apologize.

To my supreme disappointment though, she was still staring at the floor in front of her, willingly choosing to ignore the whole situation. _Grams…_

"Baki-san." The woman that hit me started. "We should go." They exchanged some serious looks before he nodded.

"You are right. We should hurry before _he_ finds out." Who was that.. he ? I didn't get to answer. The woman took the bag full of stuff and hurried through the door. The others followed, and the tall man remained behind . Why you'd ask ? I hadn't known either before he took my hand and pushed me forward.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." I said, trying to stop him from moving me any further. "I don't follow strangers !" I shouted in his face.

"But I am no stranger!" He was getting inpatient. "Say farewell to your grandmother. You won't see her again any time soon. Preferably never." He finished talking almost in a whisper, but I heard him. My eyes grew wide and I pushed past him to my grandmother, whom I hugged with all my heart.

"What is he saying ? Grams! I don't want to go anywhere with him." She was crying. Not telling me anything. Not hugging me back. Not even looking at me. "Grams, please!" My pleading only made her cry harder.

"Time over. Let's go." The man grasped forcefully my hand and took me away from my only family.

"No..no.." I started shouting. Now I was terrified. I didn't understand a thing, everything was happening so quickly. "I don't want to go. I don't want to." He was carrying me over his shoulder, and I could see my grandmother crying harder , her face into her palms now. But not moving an inch. "Grams, don't let him take me. Grams !"

Outside was cold. The wind blew powerfully and I felt my hair sticking to my tearing face. "Let me go." I kept on shouting, my fists hitting his back. But what power did a six year old possess? The more I cried, the farther my home got. And I couldn't handle it. "I don't understand. Let me go. Please." He didn't even talk to me. He wouldn't say anything.

And then, just as my eyes closed, I saw him . His red hair, an accent in the maddening crowd, watching me. "Gaara.." I whispered. The back I used to hit on, stiffened at the sound of my voice. And he walked quicker. "No, let me go. Let me go to him." Pointless. "Gaara." This time it was louder. "Gaara !" I started shouting. "Help me! Don't let them!" but I doubt he even heard a word I was shouting. Because he was just watching, eyes wide open.

He didn't understand a thing.

"Please! Just let go of me ." Watching me broken, empty eyes. "I don't want to leave him!" I remember crying and crying, hitting that man in his back till by hands got bruised and ached. I couldn't stop, I didn't want to. My grandma's voice reached me through the crowd. I don't know if I really did hear it or I imagined it, because she was nowhere to be seen. But her words cut through my heart easily _"Never return."_

What is that feeling ? When pain feels like a weight on your chest, stopping you from breathing, pulling on you hard, making you almost choke. Panic grows inside, your limbs grow numb and you breath quicker, more, desperately trying to store as much air as you can. The trembling keeps on, and the air ..so cold.. almost cutting your skin.

 _I can't breathe. I can't…_


End file.
